A Letter to a Comedy Legend on His 99th Birthday

It’s Good To Be Mel Brooks

Dear Mel,

Happy (early) birthday! Ninety-nine years old and still making the world laugh—now that’s a feat. (Yes, I know your actual birthday is June 28, a few weeks away, but at this stage, why wait?) Consider this letter part fangirl confession, part heartfelt thank you.

Your humor shaped me.

By the time History of the World: Part I came out, I was 11 and already weaned on Mad Magazine and Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions. I recognized funny. But what truly cemented my devotion was your 2000 Year Old Man comedy albums with Carl Reiner. They weren’t just funny—they were familiar. Jewish humor at its finest. Listening to those sketches, with your thick Yiddish accent and Carl playing the straight guy, felt like sitting at my grandparents’ kitchen table in Brooklyn. You weren’t performing—you were family.

I memorized your lines. Performed them at family gatherings and at stand-up gigs in college, and dreamed of what I would say to you if we met.

“It’s good to be the king,” Mel Brooks as the King of France, Louis XVI, in History of the World, Part I (click on image to watch clip)

Then came one of the greatest moments of my life.

Shortly after I moved to New York City in 1997, you and Carl released The 2000 Year Old Man in the Year 2000: The Book. I raced to Barnes & Noble in midtown, clutching my copy, practically levitating with excitement. The signing line moved fast—no banter, just sign and go. But when I reached the table, you looked up, smiled, and asked, “Been waiting long?”

A million snappy replies sprinted for cover. My brain emptied like it was an Etch A Sketch someone shook. And then, to my utter shock, I teared up. Actual tears, Mel. Not sobbing, just…emotion. You were a big deal, yes, but no offense, you weren’t Michael Jackson. Why was I crying?

Because you had been in my ears, in my house, in my childhood. Your comedy wasn’t just funny—it mattered.

“… given unto you these 15… Oy. Ten! Ten commandments,” Mel Brooks as Moses in History of the World, Part I (click on image to watch clip)

Years later, when my first book What Papa Told Me came out, interviewers would ask, “If your book became a movie, who would play your grandfather?” I never hesitated: Mel Brooks. What better poetic justice than the man behind Hitler on Ice playing a Holocaust survivor? You would’ve nailed it. Not just because of your acting, but because I knew you understood what they had gone through.

That’s what makes your humor timeless. It’s absurdity born from truth, wrapped in punchlines. And it’s what has made generations of us feel seen, even while we’re doubled over laughing.

So Mel, on this milestone birthday (let’s face it, anything over 90 is a milestone), thank you. Thank you for the laughs, the brilliance, and for reminding the world that comedy is a lifeline. May your 99th year be filled with laughter, mischief, and at least one more chance for me to redeem myself with a proper comeback.

With admiration and gratitude,

Felice

P.S. If you happen to be a letter writer, let me know. I’ll happily pass along my address. Who wouldn’t want a handwritten note from the 2,000 year old man?

P.P.S. For everyone else: is there a famous person you admire? Write them a letter. Or tell me who it is—I’d love to hear.

SONG OF THE WEEK
Bloom by The Paper Kites

Felice Cohen is an award-winning author, best known for squeezing big ideas into small spaces—like her 90-square-foot NYC apartment (yes, really). Her books include Half In: A Coming-of-Age Memoir of Forbidden Love, 90 Lessons for Living Large in 90 Square Feet, and What Papa Told Me, with praise from legends like Elie Wiesel and Rita Mae Brown. Her viral YouTube tour has racked up over 25 million views—mostly from people wondering where she kept her shoes. More at felicecohen.com.